


The First Annual Rogues Christmas Special

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Gen, that's it that's the fic, the rogues hijack the airwaves and put on a holiday special, they sing rudolph and then wrap the flash in tinsel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Across Central City, hundreds of televisions tuned to various feel-good Christmas specials simultaneously erupt into static. The static gradually shifts, focuses into a camera feed with a small, translucent white "LIVE" signal flashing in the lower left corner.</p><p>All that can be seen is a stage, with a single spotlight on a woman dressed like Santa Claus—if Santa Claus shed his pot belly and wore gold velvet instead of red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Annual Rogues Christmas Special

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_warm_beige_color](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_warm_beige_color/gifts).



> merry christmas, you heathens

Across Central City, hundreds of televisions tuned to various feel-good Christmas specials simultaneously erupt into static. The static gradually shifts, focuses into a camera feed with a small, translucent white "LIVE" signal flashing in the lower left corner.

 

All that can be seen is a stage, with a single spotlight on a woman dressed like Santa Claus—if Santa Claus shed his pot belly and wore gold velvet instead of red. The woman smiles, white teeth sparkling in the harsh stage lighting, and raises a microphone to her lips.

 

"Good evening, Central City. Many of you may not recognize me, as I tend to be a little more subtle about my mischief than my brother is. You all know him, don't you?" She looks to her right, to the second spotlight that has flicked on.

 

Even before the camera cuts to a closer feed, where the slight smirk on the man's face is visible, his distinctive blue parka is enough to identify him to all of the watching Central citizens—Captain Cold. He sits in an armchair, one knee crossed over the other, hands lighted on the arm rests, and there's only one thing unique about his outfit compared to any other time he's been spotted—the yarmulke just visible on his head.

 

The feed cuts over to the woman, and she leans in towards the camera, the conspiratorial tilting of her head just enough for the Star of David on her ear to catch the light.

 

"We wanted to do something for the last night of Hanukkah," she confides. "But we were outvoted."

 

She laughs, straightens, and the camera slowly zooms back out to show the whole stage. She gestures broadly, slowly moving away from the center of the stage, and the spotlight pans with her. "I am the Golden Glider, and this is the first annual Rogues Christmas Special. Please, enjoy the show."

 

The entire stage goes dark, and for one long moment, everyone in Central City- including those who have just tuned in, alerted by friends and neighbors that something is happening- waits with baited breath.

 

The stage slowly becomes illuminated. All that could be seen in Cold's and Glider's spotlights had been them, Cold's armchair, and the stage floor—now it becomes clear that the set has been designed like a particularly festive living room, a giant tree towering on the left side of the stage and what appears to be an actual fire crackling in a fireplace. Cold still sits in his armchair, but now Glider is perched neatly on one arm of it and several other Rogues can be seen onstage.

 

Trickster, Heatwave, Weather Wizard, and Peek-a-Boo are recognizable to those Central denizens who pay close attention to the news, dressed in varying degrees of festive clothing and spread across the stage. But of most interest is the final visible Rogue, Pied Piper, who stands at the front of the stage, a conductor's wand in hand and his back to the watching public.

 

He nods to Weather Wizard, who raises his microphone, drawls out idly, "You know Dasher and Dancer."

 

"And Prancer and Vixen," Peek-a-Boo chimes in.

 

Cold says, "You know Comet and Cupid."

 

"And Donner and Blitzen," Trickster sing-songs.

 

Pied Piper begins conducting, and Heatwave, Glider, Cold, and Wizard carry the central harmony of the song while background music is played over speakers.

 

"But do you recall the most famous reindeer of all?" They sing, and while none of them are fantastic, none of them are bad. "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer—"

 

Peek-a-Boo and Trickster jump in as the echo. "Reindeer!" they belt out, off-key but exuberant.

 

The camera cuts to Glider as she smothers a smile behind her hand, missing the next line.

 

"Had a very shiny nose," her brother, visible in the lower left of the shot, sings. He also throws her a dirty look, as if she was the one who dragged him along and he's offended she's not participating fully.

 

"Like a lightbulb!"

 

"And if you ever saw it—"

 

"Saw it!"

 

"You would even say it glows." The feed cuts to Weather Wizard sliding over slightly on the couch, throwing an arm around Peek-a-Boo's shoulders, and her laughing as she leans into him.

 

The camera cuts back to the wide feed in time to catch Trickster leap to his feet, and shout out, "Like a flashlight!" as he brandishes one in the air. The line ends, and he looks around for somewhere to put it, shrugs, tosses it backwards over his shoulder.

 

"All of the other reindeer—"

 

"Reindeer!"

 

"Used to laugh and call him names—"

 

"Like Pinocchio!"

 

"They never let poor Rudolph—"

 

"Rudolph!"

 

"Join in any reindeer games—"

 

"Like Monopoly!"

 

"Then one foggy Christmas Eve," the Rogues sing, and they all begin to move, unfold themselves from their positions and straighten away from walls. "Santa came to say—"

 

"In his underpants!"

 

"'Rudolph with your nose so bright, won't you guide my sleigh tonight?'" They take slow, even steps, converging towards the center of the stage, directly in front of the still-conducting Piper. "Then all the reindeer loved him—"

 

"Loved him!"

 

"And they shouted out with glee—"

 

"Yippee!"

 

"Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer—"

 

"Reindeer!"

 

"You'll go down in history…" As they finish they last line, they've congregated together—Glider and Peek-a-Boo are sharing a microphone, allowing Glider to throw an arm around Peek-a-Boo as well as Cold, while Wizard holds Peek-a-Boo's hand on the other side and Heatwave has a hand set on Cold's shoulder. Trickster is the only one not linked to the others, but as they hold the last note, he tosses a handful of confetti in the air, a shit-eating grin spread across his face.

Kids across Central clap for the Rogues on screen, young enough to think the villains are as cool as the heroes and naïve enough not to have suspicions about their motives. The adults of the city, however, grow antsy—the last time the Trickster showed up on television around Christmas time, hundreds of homes across the city were almost blown up.

 

They are not alone in their musing.

 

The camera shows the full stage, the Rogues who'd been singing high fiving each other, Piper turning to take a bow—and a red blur flies across the stage, comes skidding to a stop near the tree.

 

(The children of Central City cheer for the appearance of their hero.)

 

He begins to speak, but no one can quite make out the words, until Glider tosses him her spare microphone, leaning back in to Peek-a-Boo's to say, "Honey, you should have let us know you wanted a part in the production. We have more than enough room for a baritone."

 

He fumbles the microphone, but when Peek-a-Boo drops Wizard's hand to wave at him to get to it, he gives an obvious sigh of exasperation and raises it to speak. The camera zooms in on his face. "Look, I don't know what you guys are up to, but you need to break it up, give the news stations and ABC back their networks—"

 

The picture cuts to Cold as he rolls his eyes. "Honest, Scarlet, we're just trying to spread a little cheer," he says, and it returns to the wide shot as he and the other Rogues begin to disentangle themselves, spread further out across the stage.

 

Piper moves in close to Wizard, dragging his microphone close to point out, "We even put in the effort to legitimately rent out this theater for the night, and hire Ramon and some of his buddies as a tech crew."

 

The Flash does a double take, tries to peer past the blinding stage lights, then shakes his head slightly, refocuses on the Rogues. "Look, that's not the—"

 

The Rogues move simultaneously, as if they had planned on the Flash's interruption. Peek-a-Boo disappears and reappears behind the Flash to grab him, Trickster pulls a strange-looking gun out from behind one of the presents under the tree and tosses it to Glider, and Heatwave throws a roll of tinsel over to Cold while he keeps hold of one end.

 

Peek-a-Boo disappears just as Glider fires the gun to produce a gold goop that sticks the Flash in place for Cold and Heatwave- and subsequently, Peek-a-Boo and Wizard- to begin wrapping him in the tinsel.

 

Piper and Trickster reclaim some of the abandoned microphones, leading a rendition of "Deck the Halls" as the other Rogues work. The camera cuts in to a closer view of the Flash's plight, but their voices can still be heard and the other Rogues seen to be singing along.

 

By the end of the song, Flash is wrapped, shoulder to toe, in gold and silver tinsel, and the Rogues turn to bow to their audience. Glider straightens, and the camera zooms in on her as she steals a microphone back from Piper. "Merry Christmas, Central City! We'll be seeing you!" she cries out, throwing her free hand dramatically into the air, and the feed cuts to black.

 

(The next morning, the Flash is found at the top of the fifty foot tree constructed in downtown Central, with "IN THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS (AND HANUKKAH), WE DIDN'T EVEN RAID YOUR POCKETS" written on a sticky note stuck to his forehead.)

**Author's Note:**

> it's 1 AM on the day after Christmas, but I live on the East Coast so it's still Christmas in most of the US and therefore this counts


End file.
